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Updated: May 19, 2025
While Bat held on, the tenacious hands of Standing tore the weapons he had discovered from their hiding places. Then in a moment Idepski found himself sprawling in the chair he had been invited to take. Standing's appreciation was evident as he watched the man draw a gold cigarette case from the breast pocket of his overalls as though nothing had occurred.
But the trapped agent never opened his lips. Idepski had seen Standing and the other down at the quay-side. He had left them there when he started up the hill. Yet A bitter fury was driving him. He realised the trap that had been laid. He realised something of the deadly purpose lying behind it. So he remained silent under the scourge that was intended to hurt.
For the moment Idepski, Hellbeam, everything was forgotten. His thought had bridged the miles between Farewell Cove and the ancient city of the early French, Nancy! That woman that devoted wife who was striving with all the power of a frail body to serve him. There would be a letter in that mail from Nisson, telling him Yes. There might even be a letter from Nancy herself.
The slogan up there's much what it was, only the words are changed." Hellbeam sucked his cigar and removed it from his lips. "Changed? How?" he demanded, without suspicion. "It was 'Canadian trade for the Canadians," Idepski said, his dark eyes snapping maliciously. "It's more personal since the fighting kid came along. It reminds me of the German slogans of the war.
"Why should I?" he said, his dark eyes mildly enquiring, "you can't tell me a thing I don't know about Idepski. I knew it was he who dropped me. I saw him that night down there and knew him right away. Maybe he can fool you with his disguises. He can't fool me. I'd been watching him days before that." "Why didn't you show yourself? Why didn't you say?" Bat spoke fiercely in his exasperation.
Ther's word got round you're pulling out. It's clear to me. A bunch of boys hit the trail out of here three nights gone, and I've a notion Idepski went with 'em. Are they wise you're pulling out? Sure they are. Why, in God's name, don't you quit it?" The man whom the forest world knew as Father Adam, but whom Bat knew as Leslie Standing, shrugged his shoulders.
I tell you I've got past caring a curse about things. When the end comes, what does it matter! Not a thing. It's useless talking, old friend," he said, as Bat attempted to break in, "quite useless. But don't reckon I'm a willing quitter. I'll play the game till it can't be played longer. And when I've got to I'll throw my hands up. Not before. But Idepski can't follow my trail."
It's 'To hell with the Swedes, we'll drive 'em into the sea." The financier nodded. His armour was impenetrable. "The Germans said much," he said. "That's all right, these folks aren't Germans," came the prompt retort, as Idepski picked up his hat and gloves. "No." Hellbeam remained seated. It was not his way to speed a departing visitor. "I'm glad. Oh, yes."
Say, Hellbeam's been in Quebec a score of times since since . That don't worry a thing. No. He's got big finance in the Skandinavia bunch in Quebec. We know all about that. It's Idepski. Idepski ain't visiting the packet office for his health. He ain't figgerin' on a joy trip up the Labrador coast. No. That's the signal, sure. Idepski at the packet office.
Then he passed round the desk to the seat he had originally occupied. Idepski leant back in his chair, and luxuriated in a deep inhalation of smoke. Bat watched him from his place at the window. Standing placed the revolver and sheath knife he had taken possession of in a drawer in the desk, and closed it carefully. "Well, what's the play?" Idepski addressed himself solely to Standing.
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